


Favorite Surprises

by AParisianShakespearean



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Canon, Romantic Fluff, androids navigating their pesky feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 15:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17409773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AParisianShakespearean/pseuds/AParisianShakespearean
Summary: Connor's first date has a few surprises ahead.





	Favorite Surprises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhimsicalRagnarok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalRagnarok/gifts).



> Micaela is not my OC, she belongs to @whimsicalragnorak on tumblr. thanks for letting me write this! <3

“You look good Connor,” Micaela said. “You know how to wear things that suit you. Though your tie is a little crooked.”

He glanced downward. She was right. His tie was crooked. He couldn’t think too long about it as she reached over and adjusted it for him. At Hank’s suggestion he dressed a little more formally than normal. Just ask her already! burned in his memory. Finally he did. Finally. 

“Odd. Your hair is a little messy too.” 

His hand flew to the errant lock of hair that fell on his forehead. “Is it?”

“Yes. That’s not like you. Here…”

She was right. It wasn’t like him at all. His state of mind earlier was abnormal however. The tips of her fingers glided across his forehead anyway, smoothing out the ruffled lock and straightening it for him. He thanked her, and he saw something he couldn’t place in her blue-green eyes.

“You’re always so perfect,” she said, tone indicating she was teasing him playfully. “How shocking.”

He knew the truth. “I’m not perfect.”

Her hand lingered at his hair. “No one is,” she said.

He led her inside the restaurant, a restaurant with a four star ranking he deemed appropriate for the occasion. He made a reservation prior, and they were brought to a secluded table at the back. The lighting was low, and she was wearing a solid black sleeveless dress that went a little past her knees. Her black hair, usually haphazardly pulled up at the top of her head, was down for the occasion, falling past her shoulders. He saw himself twirl his fingers through it, pull her hair away from her face so he could better see her eyes. But he wouldn’t touch her unless she wanted. He wouldn’t do anything to her unless she asked.

Their waitress, a tall blonde-haired woman came to the table and asked for their drink orders. Connor said he was fine. Micaela ordered a Guinness.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” the waitress who introduced herself as Kelly inquired. She looked directly into Connor’s eyes, shoulders and feet pointed straight toward him. It was like Micaela wasn’t there.

“Positive,” Connor replied.

“Well if you change your mind, please feel free to let me know.”

“I hope you noted I want a Guinness.”

Kelly nodded curtly at Micaela, cheeks subtly blooming with pinkish shame as she shuffled away.

Micaela raised her eyebrows when she was out of earshot. “The waitress fancies you.”

He was instilled with programs and computations. He knew every statistic, every likely probability and even the ones that were less likely. He wasn’t designed to be surprised. Yet since he opened his eyes, he had been surprised every day.

“Does she?” he asked, eyes widening and drifting where she disappeared.

She noted he sounded surprised. He was. Attractiveness, beauty. They were all very human concepts, though if asked, even before, he was certain that he had found things that he would have considered pretty, maybe even beautiful too. Snow falling on the water in the park, turning the world white. Paintings of flowers and mountains that lined the walls of the Detroit Institute of Art. He liked to look at pretty things, and he knew what beauty was and could be.

Regarding Micaela, outlined in a candlelight glow, looking at him and pretending she was with a man and not an android, he saw something he thought was a little like beauty, but maybe more.

But he wasn’t used to others seeing that in him. Since the revolution he took off his LED and passed for human in most places. Sometimes he was recognized as one of the androids on the news that night of the eleventh, but most days he could be anyone he wanted to be. A person, who thought and felt, and had their own vibrant life. Not an object. He was still trying to tell himself that he could have a vibrant life.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked. “Still tickled the waitress fancies you?” 

He turned his full attention back toward her and her gentle eyes. She was open and relaxed, heart rate normal. He told her he wasn’t thinking about anything in particular.

“You are not.”

Of course she would catch him. She was a journalist, a photographer. She was supposed to see what others couldn’t. Caught, he confessed she was right, he was thinking about the waitress finding him attractive. He wasn’t used to that sort of thing.

“Connor,” Micaela said as the bartender brought the Guinness, along with a second one that Kelly decided to bring for Connor anyway. “How many times a day do you look at yourself in the window and adjust your tie?”

“At least every few hours,” he admitted.

She took a sip. “Point taken. You know you’re attractive. Don’t be so surprised when others notice.”

“Do you find me attractive?”

Guinness dripped from the corner of her mouth down to her chin. He handed her napkin. She wiped.

“Do I…think you’re attractive?” she asked. “Well…uh…”

“You’re blushing indicates embarrassment. I’m sorry. Did my question offend you?”

“I’m not easily offended,” she assured. “I can’t be, not with my work.”

Micaela didn’t have it easy. Connor knew that when he first came across her via Hank. Curious, he asked him how he knew the strange woman with slightly musical voice and long black hair piled at the top of her head. She was young when he was involved in her mother’s arrest, checked in on her often when she moved from foster home to foster home. She didn’t even have it easy before that. She moved to Detroit from Ireland when she was only ten years old, and because of that she had a slight sing-song to her voice, foreign from everyone else Connor crossed paths with. Though Hank never said so or admitted it, Connor knew he held an attachment toward her, even if at one point he called her job as a photographer and journalist an “obsession.” Connor read the stories of her “shenanigans,” as Hank called them. She had done quite a few things in her day on the job, jumping fences, going into restricted areas, that she was referred to as “Superman.” She would do anything to get the best story and snapshots. Lately she had been in the editorials for her vocal support for android rights, but the truth was she had been supporting them even before the revolution. She always believed in his people’s personhood, in his personhood. Even before he did, even as he still struggled to find out what to do with it.

Moments of silence passed. Time was different for humans. Connor liked the silence, could spend hours in it, thinking. It wasn’t like that for humans. He wondered if the moment of silence was too long for her. But she looked at him, observed him as he observed her. He sensed her heart rate was normal, and she was relaxed as she sipped her Guinness and moved on to the one Connor was given. Maybe she liked the silence as he did.

Eventually she looked at the menu. For dinner she couldn’t decide between the steak or the seafood. When the waitress came and she decided on the steak, Connor ordered the seafood.

“Why did you order?” She asked. “You’re not going to eat it.”

“You had trouble deciding. Thought I would get it for you.”

She cocked her head. “Awfully sweet. Thank you.”

When the food came, she ate from both plates, talking amicably. “You know, in the future they should make restaurants for androids,” she mused.

“Androids don’t really eat as humans do,” he replied. “I’m not sure that would work.”

“I don’t know, blue blood lollipops? Blue blood ice cream? It could be a worthy investment.”

“We’re not regarded fondly. I don’t think people want to cater to us.”

“Someday, you never know.”

He used to walk around with his LED on. He could only walk the streets at night then. There were too many people during the day who would stare, shove him even. No, sometimes he didn’t know. That was why he took it off. Without it he had some anonymity, could just be Connor. Save for the time he was recognized as the deviant there with Markus the night of the revolution.

Micaela was there too. They both happened to be in Ferndale helping a few androids who reported harassment from a few people who lived nearby. He was spit at, hit at before the DPD intervened. Micaela was cursed at too. Stick to your own kind, they said. She had seen all that too. Unlike Connor, she seemed to know.

“The world is always changing Connor,” she said softly. “Christ, you’ve changed so much since we first met.”

He should have known. It should have been obvious. Yet sometimes, he was unsure.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“You have,” she assured. “Not just with the obvious, but you’re more caring. I can see it. You always asked things, and I think you were curious back then, but now it’s more apparent. You see things too. And sometimes, you even do crazy things like ask me out on dates.”

“This isn’t a date,” he insisted.

She leaned in. “What if I want it to be one?”

“Well. Then…” He too, leaned closer in. “Then it can be. But only if you want. Like I said it doesn’t have to be.”

His hand was on the table. She put hers on top of it.

“Hey,” she said, chuckling. “I want it to be.”

“Oh.” He could feel it—his thirium pump working harder than it should have. “Good. Then…I hope you’ve been enjoying it.”

“I am. Now stop worrying so much.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am.”

She got a good laugh at that, and he continued with the “date” aspect by paying for the dinner, even when she insisted she could. When they left the restaurant, he stood at a crossroads, knowing he should see her home but not wanting to leave her. Not yet. If he was honest with himself, leaving her was something that he would do everything he could to avoid.

“Micaela…”

“Mic,” she corrected. “Mac, Mickey, whatever. I’m flexible.”

“You don’t like Micaela?” he asked, confused, worried he called her by a name she found offensive for all that time.

She shrugged. “People who I’m close to usually shorten it. I would consider us pretty close, wouldn’t you say?”

He would, very much so. And he didn’t want his time with her to end. He asked if she wanted to go somewhere with him. She didn’t point out that she was with him somewhere already. For that, he was grateful. She only asked where he wanted to go next. He suggested the park. It was the first place he thought of. He didn’t think she would agree. But his life now was surprise after surprise. She did agree, let him take her there. They walked in silence in the light fallen snow, and when she shivered, even underneath her jacket, he took his off and put it around her shoulders. She called him a gentleman.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have taken you here,” he said. “I don’t want you to be cold.”

“See,” she exclaimed. “You have changed. You’re kind, You’re caring.” 

She peered at him. Their bodies touched, his mechanical, forged heart beating alongside hers. There was something he remembered. She didn’t answer his question.

“I don’t remember your question.”

“Mic.”

She chuckled, surrendering. “Alright, I do remember. So, do I find you attractive? Hmmm.” She wrapped her around his neck. “Yes. Yes I do. I have for a while.”

He asked her how long, realizing that she was right. He could be awfully curious. And as they sat down on the bench, she admitted as they watched the snow fall against the water, she knew there was something about him almost immediately.

“Why didn’t you say so?” he wondered. “You had opportunities.”

“I didn’t want to take advantage of you or give you an order. I couldn’t do that. I would never want to do that. Even now I worry that…” She smoothed the hair away from her face. She didn’t continue.

“That what?” he asked, soft and gentle.

“That I’m taking advantage of you by being here.”

He held her face in his hands. He studied her eyes, studied her, his favorite curiosity that made him feel as anyone could feel, happy and anxious, but mostly excited for everything else.

“There’s nothing I want more than to be her with you,” he promised her.

“I never want to give you an order,” she muttered. “But…”

She took his hand. He squeezed it. “But what?”

“But I really want you to kiss me.”

“Kiss? Oh. I know about those types of things.” He outlined her lips with the pad of his thumb.

Her cheeks blossomed pink. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Mic,” he said. “Kiss me.”

Her lips touched his. It was a fleeting moment, but it was an eternity. She parted their mouths with her tongue, she underlined his bottom lip with the tip. He shivered. It was good. She was good. She was his favorite surprise.

Their foreheads touched. He held her in his arms. He thought of the more surprises they would have.


End file.
